


Recreation

by dundus



Series: For The Life-Verse [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dundus/pseuds/dundus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike can dress her up, but he can't take her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recreation

He was trying to catch my eye. He was trying to catch the eye of just about every woman in the bar. He had only mildly more success with them than he did with me. Which is to say, not much.

Sure, he was nice to look at, lean, sensuously lashed eyes, strong mouth, and broad shoulders. His clothes were obviously chosen with care, and worn with even more.

But it's hard to pick up women when you're so obviously infatuated with someone else - yourself.

I was fed up with waiting. I scraped my chair slowly backwards across the bar floor as I stood up, looking around the room just once more, in case I'd missed him. As if that were possible.

I could feel Casanova's eyes follow me as I headed for the Bronze exit. He leaned in close as I passed him.

"Leaving alone, sweetie?" The words came out on a carpet of beer fumes.

I shuddered and kept walking.

I could hear his footsteps quite clearly behind me, despite the late night hubbub. Well, it was his funeral.

"What's the matter?" he asked, pulling on my arm to twist me to face him. "You a dyke?"

I let him turn me, and carefully pinched my face with a hint of anxiety.

"'Cause you're not too good for a guy like me, are you?"

He pulled me closer. I moved with it, and added a little momentum of my own. I smiled to myself as I felt the bone of his nose shatter under the force of my skull.

I laced my fingers around his neck and chambered my knee for a strike to his stomach.

"ita!" How in God's name could he sound so much like my mother? I spun to face Spike, taking care to compose myself with as much sincerity as possible.

Behind me were the sounds of indignation and crushed ego sputtering though blood. In front of me, reprimand in black leather, flicking away a spent cigarette.

"He started it?" As the words rolled out, I realized they were true. "He started it." I nodded with assurance.

Spike curled his lips in skepticism and cocked his head expectantly.

"He was being annoying!"

Spike waited for more, lighting another cigarette with exaggerated patience.

"And then he followed me out here, and attacked me."

He pursed his lips, watching me and savouring the nicotine. With a last flourish of reproof, a clenching and unclenching of the razor lines of his jaw, he came to stand beside me.

"I can dress you up," he said, raking his eyes up and down my outfit. Mostly tight and mostly leather, I _obviously_ hadn't set out to pick a fight. "But I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

I bared my teeth, trying to compose a face-saving wisecrack. But I was interrupted.

"Cunt!" My attacker had regained his feet, and hurled the insult with blood and spittle.

With a curl of his lips and a hint of a sneer, Spike sent his fist up and cracked down in a sharp punch that dropped Casanova back to his knees, moaning and wailing.

"Just try and stay out of trouble, will you?" He nodded expectantly.

I gave him a perfunctory pout and slipped my arm through his. He flexed his knuckles as we left the alley, staring at them intently.

"Let me get that," I purred and pulled his hand to my mouth. I slowly ran my tongue along his slender fingers; careful to lick them clean of every trace of my attacker's blood.

"Better now?" I asked with a slow smile.

I could sense a smudge of blood still on my mouth, and left it there, waiting. He raised his free hand, dropping the cigarette, and thumbed my lip. I let my head turn with the friction and half closed my eyes with the pleasure of his touch.

He stared again at the blood. A second too long - I realized he wasn't ready, so I took it for myself, swirling my tongue around the pad of his thumb.

Baby steps, I thought, snuggling my head onto his shoulder. Baby steps.


End file.
